


Free Fallin'

by TammyRenH



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Bottom Sam, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Pining Sam, Public Hand Jobs, Raised Apart, Sam thinks he is Sam Singer, Top Dean Winchester, a hunt, mild homophobia, the boys don't know they are brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22487542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TammyRenH/pseuds/TammyRenH
Summary: Sam Singer has been in love for Dean Winchester for as long as he can remember.  Sam knows about hunting from his father Bobby, but has never hunted.  He's bright, studious, headed for Stanford on a full scholarship but he can't help but wish he could be more like Dean - wild, free, fearless.  When Dean invites Sam along on a hunt, promising him adventure and maybe even something more, how could Sam possibly say no?
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 26
Kudos: 124
Collections: Sam Winchester Big Bang 2019-20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I started this one a year ago, and chickened out on finishing it, but here it is now. I want to thank my artist emmatheslayer for picking my fic and for her lovely art work (link is here. https://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com/621581.html) and to my beta Jd171 for once again being so awesome and helping me out.
> 
> If angst is difficult for you please note these tags are for chapter 7 only so skip this part if you don’t want spoilers:
> 
> Heavy angst, Emotionally hurt Sam and Dean Unhappy ending 
> 
> The rest of the fic is angst free (well other than pining Sam) so if you wish to read the rest and skip the last chapter, a summary is in end notes

He was born with the safety off.

At least that was what people whispered, when they were sure Dean wasn’t close enough to hear them.

Wild, reckless, incorrigible, not-safe-for-public-consumption. Hide your girls. Hide your boys too for that matter, because Dean could – as he had proven time and again - charm the pants off of anyone.

Over the years, Sam had heard all these things and more, hell heard them even from his father’s lips and his father thought of Dean as a second son. 

And Sam knew these things to be true. Knew that behind those beautiful green eyes, that gorgeous, perfect face, that smirk that sent butterflies aflame deep in Sam’s belly – was a man that could lead Sam to a place he had never been – Trouble.

Sam had a bad case of hero worship since he was four, hungry for a moment of Dean’s time, a kind word, a ruffle of his hair. He still had a bad case of hero worship, but now what he hungered for was very different. 

He knew that Dean could break his heart – hell, definitely would break his heart. But he was still willing to pull his heart out his chest and hand it to Dean anyway because Dean was everything Sam could never be – beautiful, strong, fearless. Dean soared while Sam had never lifted his feet off the ground.

Sam had known Dean all his life. Dean’s father was a hunter. Dean too, from the moment he was old enough to hold a shotgun. They’d come by Sam’s father’s junkyard on a regular basis, for information about this monster or that, sometimes to hide out, sometimes to heal up. When Sam was four, he followed Dean around like a puppy. When he was eight, Dean took him to the lake across town and taught Sam how to swim (something Sam’s dad was always planning to do but could never get away from the phone long enough to manage). When Sam was ten, he watched Dean sew up a gash on his own arm that was three inches long while Sam tried hard to hide how queasy he was. When Sam was fourteen, Dean came to visit after several years of not coming. There had been a fight between Sam’s dad and Dean’s dad that Sam never did learn all the details of, just that it was bad, and John Winchester was no longer welcome in Bobby Singer’s house. But Dean was – and he dropped by, driving his dad’s old car which was now his. He took Sam for a ride out in the country and to the ice cream parlor in town where Sam watched girl after girl flirt with Dean for all they were worth and realized that burning feeling deep inside of him was nothing but pure, undiluted jealousy.

Dean was now twenty-two and had been hunting for a decade. Sam had never even held a gun – shooting was something else on the long list of things Dad was planning to teach him but was always too busy to get around to. Sam knew about monsters of course; his dad was the go-to guy for all the hunters in the region. Sometimes his dadwould let him help with research, but not often. Mainly he wanted Sam to concentrate on his schoolwork, his debate club, soccer, track. Sam was a straight A student, he and his partner placed first in a national debate competition, and he graduated valedictorian of his class. In other words, Sam was safe, boring and as vanilla inside as he was outside. There was no way that someone like Dean Winchester would ever be interested in a nobody like him.

It was mid-August, hot as seven hells and of freaking course, the air conditioner was broken. Sam was sitting between two fans going full blast in his room, a textbook on European literature on his lap. He had gotten his syllabus for his first semester of college and he was determined to hit the ground running. He had already read the first three chapters and taken practice quizzes he had found in the back of the book.

“God Bobby, did you finally decide to burn this trash heap to the ground? It’s fucking burning up in here.” 

Dean.

Sam struggled to his feet, managing to kick one of his fans over with his stupidly coltish legs and stood wobbling on them as the fan hit the ground with a loud racket, the blades still churning.

“Bobby?” Dean asked, at the bottom of the stairs. “You okay old man?”

“Everything’s fine.“ Sam managed to spit out, bending over to pick up the fan just as Dean entered the room.

“Hi ya Sam,” Dean greeted him, easy grin on his face, his hair a bit tousled like he had forgotten to comb it after he woke up. He was wearing an old black The Who shirt which clung to him as tightly as Sam did in his wet dreams, rips in it here and there revealing tantalizing glimpses of skin. He was also wearing an old pair of ripped jeans, barely hanging on to his hips.

It took a few seconds for Sam to realize he was staring. A few more seconds to realize he was clutching the fan, still running, to his chest. 

Dean’s eyebrows were arched, that familiar wry smile on his lips. “You okay Sam?”

“I – uh -” Sam stuttered, thinking if Stanford could see him now they would automatically revoke his scholarship.

“You and that fan have a thing?” Dean asked, making his way into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“No.” Sam unceremoniously dropped the fan, where it hit the ground on its side, still resolutely blowing hot air. “I – the air conditioner broke.”

“I kinda figured,” Dean replied. “I’m surprised Bobby hasn’t fixed it yet. He’s good with motors.”

“He tried. It’s like 30 years old or something, gotta be replaced. He’s cranky as shit about it.” 

“I can imagine,” Dean snorted. “Is the old man anywhere around? I need to ask him about a case.”

“No, he and –” For a second Sam blanked on the name, he had seen the man a thousand times but with Dean looking at him so intently with those gorgeous eyes – looking at him like what he was saying might matter – Sam’s brain was barely functional. “Him and –” Sam looked around the room as if something there would help him. His room looked back at him, placid and unhelpful. “They went on a hunt, Rufus came by –” And there was the name. “And he had a case and with it being so hot and all –”

Dean whistled. “Bobby left you all alone? All here by your lonesome? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Sam could feel himself flush. “I’m 18 you know.” He didn’t mean for it to come out so defensive and tried to rein in his nerves. “I’m going to be leaving for college in a week.”

“So, I see.” Dean picked up one of the textbooks off the bed and read the title. “You were always such a geek. Which college took pity on you?”

“Stanford. Full ride,” Sam said, as his mouth refused to listen to his brain’s command to shut the fuck up. “It’s no big deal or anything.”

“Yeah, I am sure they give out full rides to Stanford like candy.” Dean put the book down and his eyes took a leisurely stroll over Sam’s chest which Sam just then remembered was bare. Shit.

Sam scrambled to find his discarded shirt on the floor. 

“You don’t have to cover up on my account,“ Dean drawled. “I am enjoying the view.”

Sam was pretty sure that there was not one part of him that was not red by now, but somehow managed to pull the t-shirt over his head, realizing too late that it was the one with the owl and the Tootsie pop on it.

Dean’s smirk of amusement grew, and he stood up and patted Sam’s arm. “You’re a good kid Sam.”

Well, okay.

“Shit, you’ve gotten taller.” Dean observed and it took Sam a moment to realize he was looking down at Dean. It felt wrong somehow, this man that he had idolized since he could walk having to look up at him. Sam fought off an almost uncontrollable urge to bend his knees. “I bet you have all the girls clamoring to climb you like a tree.”

Sam shook his head but didn’t say what he was thinking which was one – he was too awkward for anyone but other awkward nerds to pay attention to and two – there wasn’t a girl in the world that he would ever feel about like he felt about Dean. He was saved from having to answer Dean by the ringing of one of his dad’s phones. 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Gonna get that?”

“No,” Sam responded. “Dad would have my head if I answered. He doesn’t want me anywhere near the – well he still thinks of me as a kid.” Sam looked down at the floor. “Still thinks I am some stupid kid you know.”

“Hey, Sammy look.” Dean reached over and placed his finger under Sam’s chin to gently coax Sam’s eyes back up. “I know Bobby and I know he never once thought of you as stupid. And as far as the kid thing – my dad quit thinking of me as a kid when I was about seven. Trust me, the other side isn’t always greener.”

The phone stopped ringing, if it was an emergency whoever the hunter was would contact Bobby on one of his cell phones. Bobby brought three with him on the hunt, all different numbers. How he would answer the phone dependingon which number was called.

“Too bad he isn’t here though.” Dean went on after a bit of an awkward silence. “I could really use his help on this case.”

“What case?” Sam asked, interest piqued. “Dad does let me do some research sometimes so – I know some stuff; I can look up some stuff for you, I mean. If you want me too. I mean if you would rather just ask Dad I understand.”

Dean’s laughter interrupted Sam’s babbling. “I am sure you’ll do just fine Sam. I really don’t have a lot to go on. The authorities think it’s some kind of sicko targeting young kids, two have gone missing in the last few weeks. The last abduction was witnessed by the kid’s sister – she was hiding underneath the bed. The authorities all think she’s just traumatized, and it’s certainly not something I recognize at all, but I think it might be up our alley.”

Dean handed Sam the phone, which Sam miraculously did not drop, indicating what he had been referring to.

The online article stated that little Thomas Barkley was the second child in so many weeks to go missing, the first one being another boy about the same age named Billy Thurman. It went on to state that Thomas’ sister, Sarah, had been hiding under Thomas’ bed, intending to scare him when he returned from his bath. Sarah, all of five years old, had a very limited view from where she lay on the floor, but swore that the thing that took Thomas was a very large snake, that wrapped itself around Thomas and carried him away.

It was clear the writer of the article didn’t believe her, just believed it was a good click bait story. The police were looking for a woman, as a woman had been spotted in the neighborhood carrying a child about the same time, maybe somebody fixated on children because she couldn’t have one of her own.

The child had been hysterical. It was possible that she created this fantastical creature because her mind couldn’t accept the truth.

Or-

Sam kicked the downed fan again on his way to the stack of books, but this time managed to unplug the damned thing. He picked up his Ancient Greek Mythology textbook, which had been ordered as they all were from Amazon and began quickly thumbing through it.

“So, check this out.” Sam turned the book toward Dean, finger pointed to the woman pictured. “Her name is Lamia. Half woman, half snake. The legend is that after Hera destroyed her children, she began killing the children in her village by eating them.”

“Nice,” Dean observed wryly, handing the book back to Sam. “Any clues in there on how to kill her?”

Sam shook his head. “In Mythology books it is usually presumed that everyone is a myth.”

“Well, I’ll just go with the old standbys. If iron doesn’t work, beheading her should do the trick.” Dean stood up and stretched, a tantalizing piece of skin revealed. “So, Sammy, up for a road trip?”

Sam blinked several times and tried to restart his brain. “Me?”

“You’re the only Sammy in the room,” Dean grinned down at him, which was very distracting. “Come on, it will be fun. I’ll be the beauty, you be the brains, and together we’ll gank us a monster.”

Sam held tighter to the book to stop his hands from trembling. “But it might not be her. It could be anything Dean. There are a lot of monsters that go after children, I don’t know them all, but Dad does and –”

“And that’s why I need you with me,” Dean interjected. “In case it isn’t her and I need alternatives fast. If we hurry, we can be there by tomorrow morning, hopefully before she gets a chance to nab another kid.”

His dad would not want him to go. His dad would hate the very idea of Sam hunting.

His dad wasn’t here.

“Don’t you want to have a little fun before you become all stuffy in Stanford?” Dean wheedled, with that impossible to resist grin on his face. “C’mon Sam, live a little.”

“You consider killing monsters fun?” Sam asked, standing up and looking for his backpack. The internal struggle – such as it was – was over. He wanted to be where Dean was, simple as that.

“Absolutely,” Dean replied and flung an arm around Sam’s shoulder. “This is going to be great. You, me, and Baby and the open road.”

Thirty minutes later, they were flying down the highway.


	2. Chapter 2

The music was loud, volume turned up so high the car was practically vibrating.

Dean was singing, loud and off-key, fingers tapping on the steering wheel as if it were a drum.

Sam didn’t recognize the song, but the band was Def Leppard. “Best fucking band ever!” Dean said as he popped in the tape. “Be prepared to be schooled.”

They were on a two-lane road where Dean could let the car, which he had apparently named Baby, fly wide open.

Dean grinned at Sam, smile so wide and free that it caused Sam’s heart to lurch, before turning the music down to a less ear-splitting level. “Was I right?” he asked, eyes flickering from Sam to the road. “Best ever, huh?”

Sam didn’t really have an opinion on the music one way or another, he was more of a pop kinda guy, but he nodded his head anyway, just to see Dean’s grin grow impossibly wider.

They flew by a 60 MPH sign and Sam had to ask. “Don’t you worry about getting tickets?”

“Open the glove box Sam,” Dean instructed.

Sam did. There was some kind of black handgun in there, which made Sam nervous and surrounding the gun, several pieces of paper that upon inspection, turned out to be speeding tickets.

“I’m a wanted man Sammy!” Dean declared. “What’s it like being the Bonnie to my Clyde?”

The idea really shouldn’t make Sam happy, but he was biting back a smile as he shut the glove box. “I can’t be Bonnie, I’m not a girl,” he mumbled in reply.

Dean reached out a hand and tousled his hair. “If you say so.”

They ate lunch at a greasy spoon where the sound of Dean moaning his way through eating a double cheeseburger had Sam squirming in his seat.

They drove mainly in comfortable silence, music blasting as the road stretched endlessly before them. After a few hours on the road, Sam got a reply to a text he had sent a few weeks before.

Dean looked at his expression and then turned the volume down on the music. “[1] Bad news?”

Sam put his phone back in his pocket and shrugged, wondering how much to tell Dean, sure that the story would bore him.

On his eighteenth birthday Sam had decided to try to find his mother’s relatives, if any were still alive. His dad refused to talk about his wife, Sam knew her name, that she had died shortly after giving birth to Sam, and that she wasn’t a hunter and that was pretty much it. Any time he tried to bring her up, Dad would shoot him down, change the subject, tell him the past was best left in the past.

Still, he wanted to know more about her. He had done a search on the web which had brought some potential relatives. A bit more sleuthing had garnered him some numbers and he sent a few texts, asking them if they were related to her. 

One had just come back, stating she didn’t know her and to please not text her number again.

“You’d just be bored,” Sam told Dean 

“C’mon, it’s a long drive and I usually don’t have anyone to talk to.”

“I was just looking for one of Mom’s relatives, I just wanted to know – I love my dad, obviously, but I never knew my mother.” Sam played with the hem of his shirt, not looking at Dean. “Anyway, it’s a dead end.”

“It’s gotta suck not to remember your mom at all,” Dean sympathized, as he passed a truck who had probably been going the speed limit. “I remember mine, but it’s kind of vague, just flashes of memory, her making me dinner, her holding you…”

“Me?” Sam asked, surprised. “Your mother held me?”

“Yeah, you lived with us for a while,” Dean replied, looking over at him. “You didn’t know? Bobby never told you any of this?”

Sam shook his head no. “He never tells me anything about my mom or talks about when I was little.”

“Yeah, you stayed with us for a bit when you were just a baby.” Dean looked like he was recalling a memory, eyes distant. “I thought you were my brother back then, how crazy is that? Dad told me later that he and Mom were just looking after you while Bobby tried to deal with your mom’s death, but when Bobby took you away – I screamed, tried to run after you. Dad had to hold me back. I thought you were mine.”

Sam had to practically bite a hole in his lip not to say, ‘I could be if you asked.’

“I was the one who carried you out of the fire, bet you didn’t know that either.”

Sam looked at Dean in amazement. Why the hell hadn’t his father told him any of this? “I was there when your mom - when your house burnt down?”

He knew the story of course. That Dean’s mom had been killed by something supernatural, that John had gone on the road with Dean, tracking the monster who had killed her. He couldn’t remember who told him this, it was like he had always known. Growing up, during the precious times he spent with Dean, he had never asked him about his mother or her death. For one, he was sure it was a painful memory for Dean, but mainly because there were always so many other things to talk about – Dean’s latest monster hunt, the places he had seen, his most recent brushes with the law.

“You saved my life,” Sam said. “I can’t believe nobody told me that.”

“I think people just didn’t want to supplement that bad case of hero worship you had going on there.” Dean laughed at Sam’s blush. “It’s not like you were exactly subtle with that kiddo.”

“Not a kid,” Sam mumbled, picking at imaginary lint on his jeans.

“Yeah, so I’ve noticed.” And when Sam dared to look up, Dean winked at him and then turned the music back up, serious conversation apparently over with.

It was dark when they made it to Jayne, Wyoming where Dean pulled into a motel that looked like it had seen better days several decades ago. Sam stayed in the car while Dean rented them a room, a single with two beds.

“Hey, after we gank the psycho woman-snake, we should hit the fair. I haven’t been to one of those since I snuck in one when I was 12.”

Sam stood in the motel doorway, watching as Dean threw his bag carelessly on a bed. On the main road into town, there had been a banner hanging between two buildings advertising the town’s annual founding festival.

Was Dean asking him out on a date?

“Sure,” Sam answered as he carefully placed his backpack on the bed.

“Good deal.” Dean grinned and then headed to the bathroom.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed. Probably not a date. Just two friends hanging out. Sam unconsciously chewed on a fingernail as he tried to convince himself that Dean wasn’t asking him out.

Staying in the same room with Dean was nerve wracking and exciting and Sam was so scared he was going to say or do the wrong thing and ruin the best adventure he had ever had. Only adventure, if he was to be honest. But Dean was so open and easy going, not a care in his world as he stripped his shirt off and asked Sam if he wanted to go to the bar with him. He had seen one down the street, just the right kind of seedy Dean told Sam, he needed to pick up a few bucks by playing pool and hey did Sam play?

Sam did, but not very well. “I can’t get into a bar,” he said instead of admitting that. “I’m not 21.”

“You are going to stand there and tell me you don’t have a fake ID?” Dean asked incredulously. “How are you going to pick up the ladies at college if you can’t get into one of those hoity-toity college bars?”

“Not really into the ladies,” Sam admitted.

“Men then. I am getting you a fake ID for your going to college present. Even geeks need access to booze.”

“Not a geek –” Sam protested, but stopped short as Dean pulled off his pants, standing there just in his tight black briefs. Sam’s mouth suddenly felt dry and his eyes refused to look anywhere else.

Of course Dean noticed, and he returned Sam’s stare with a smirk. “Hold that thought until after the hunt sweetheart.”

Sam was pretty sure he was blushing all the way down to his toes.

Dean pulled on a ratty Metallica t-shirt and pants with more holes than fabric.“You can still come with; they just won’t let you buy booze. This kind of place doesn’t have people at the door checking ID’s.”

Dean threw his hand over Sam’s shoulder as they entered the bar, and was stumbling, voice too loud as he asked the bartender for a beer, totally ignoring the fact that the bartender was busy helping someone else. Sam realized Dean wanted everyone there, to think he was already drunk.

“I’ll bet you twenty dollars I can bust your ass at pool.” Dean pointed the beer at Sam. “Even as high as a fucking kite, I am the best pool player there is.”

His voice was loud, and it carried, several people were looking at them in either annoyance or speculation.

Sam played his part, voice much lower and he didn’t think it was shaky, much. “I don’t have twenty dollars and I think it’s time we headed back to the hotel.”

“No, I wanna play pool.” Dean slammed the glass of beer down, beer sloshing everywhere. “I’ll find someone else if you are too chicken.” To Sam’s mortification, Dean began making chicken noises, even going as far as to “flap” his elbows.

“I’ll play you,” a boy ~~,~~ not much older than Sam, offered. “Twenty dollars, right?”

Sam sat on the bar stool, nursing a coke the bartender had given him, and watched as Dean lost the first two games he played, to two different people.

Finally, Dean plopped his whole wallet on the table. “Fuck it. I’m all in, who wants to play me?”

Sam stood up, Dean had several drinks during this time, and he was wondering maybe he was really flying high by now. He used the name that Dean said would be his alias during this trip, Robert. “Robert, maybe it’s time we head back to the motel.”

Dean waved a dismissing hand. “Trying to play pool here kid.”

A man, almost as tall as Dean and twice as burly, plopped down two one hundred-dollar bills. “Let’s play some pool.”

Dean won that round, still stumbling around, even giggling now and then. He won the next one with the next guy. By the third guy, there was restless murmuring around the bar and Sam was beginning to get worried. His coke was long gone, and he sat on the bar stool, nervously bouncing a knee which he didn’t even notice until one of the waitresses asked. “Ants in your pants honey?”

Dean pocketed the two hundred dollars from that round but seemed to notice the icing of the atmosphere. “Well this was fun, but I think it’s time for me and my drunk ass to get to bed.”

Sam stood up, eager to get the hell out of there.

“Wait a minute.” The big burly man from earlier picked up a cue stick. “I want a chance to win my money back.”

“Maybe next time,” Dean replied. “Me and my friend here have a busy day tomorrow so –”

The man crowded into Dean’s space; chest puffed out. “I want to play tonight.”

“Look pal, you need to take about three steps back before I make you.” Dean no longer sounded drunk.

The guy snorted. “You and what army? You think that scrawny kid is going to be able to drag what will remain of your ass outta the door?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” the waitress exclaimed, putting her tray on the bar counter. “Let him go Bubba, he beat you fair and square.”

Dean and Sam looked at each other, both mouthing Bubba at the same time. Bubba still looked ready for a fight, but Dean threw some money on the bar for the beers he had drunk and they hightailed it out of the bar as fast as they could.

Dean was laughing by the time they made it out to the parking lot. “I almost got my ass kicked by a man named Bubba,” he chortled, bending down and thumping his knees. 

“I can’t believe you do that all the time,” Sam said as they started their way back to the motel, they had walked the mile or so to get to the bar. “There has to be less dangerous ways of getting money.”

“But they aren’t as fun. And if we had gone out to the parking lot, I would have won that fight. I’ve taken on monsters twice his size, that fucking lump of lard wouldn’t stand a chance.” Dean snaked an arm around Sam’s waist, pulling him closer. Sam’s heart was jackrabbiting in his chest. “Besides, if I ever got in a jam, you’d save me, right Sam?” 

Sam was pretty sure he’d lose a fight with that waitress back there, who was about five foot three and probably weighed about 110. Still, he had Dean’s arm around his waist, Dean’s voice in his ear, and at that moment all things seem possible. “I’ll save your ass anytime it needs saving.”

Dean’s fingers tightened on his hip. “That’s my boy.”


	3. Chapter 3

“So, who are you a reporter for again?” the receptionist at the police station asked, eyes firmly focused on Dean. 

Sam stood to the side with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. He was afraid they would shake if he took them out. Lying to people who worked for the police seemed the opposite of a sane thing to do. They had heard that a third child had gone missing overnight, but nothing had been released on the latest victim yet. Dean insisted that talking to the police was the best way to get information.

Dean flashed his brightest, most open smile at the receptionist – Katie Smalls was the name written on the ID in her lanyard - and leaned over the desk. “We work for Crime Chronicles. We’re here to do a piece on the missing children. My editor says he is a sucker for anything involving children, but I think mainly he likes the traffic these kinds of stories bring to our site.”

“So, it’s online?” Katie asked, barely blinking as she stared into Dean’s green eyes. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“We’re brand spanking new,” Dean answered, handing Katie a card. “Please check us out when you get a chance.”

He winked at Katie. Katie blushed. Sam rolled his eyes, not that it mattered because neither one of them was paying any attention to him.

“So, is Sheriff Atkins available by any chance? My partner and I would love to get some sound bites straight from the horse’s mouth so to speak.”

Katie took her eyes off of Dean long enough to look in Sam’s direction. Sam tried to summon up a smile, but instead it was more of a nervous grimace. She turned her attention back to Dean. “I’m afraid Sheriff,Atkins is busy. Your partner seems really young to be a reporter.”

“Assistant really. He gets college credit for doing this and in return I get my own personal geek boy. He’s great with the research. I’m more of a hands-on guy myself.” Sam shoved his shoulder into Dean’s. Dean glanced at him, smirked and then turned all his charm back towards Katie.

Dean flirted so easily. It was stupid really to think that he was flirting with Sam with any real intent, flirting was as natural to Dean as breathing. 

“Any chance we can get some addresses of the missing children?” Dean asked, as his tongue slinked out to wet his lips and he leaned further over the desk. “My editor thinks visuals are very important, he wants us to take pictures of their houses. I’d be eternally grateful if you could help us out.”

Katie was leaning forward so much that her butt was almost totally out of her chair. She was practically salivating. 

“Super reporter like you, and you can’t sniff out the addresses on your own?” Katie teased, biting her lower lip as she twirled the ends of her curly brown hair.

“We got the first two.” Dean stood back up, opening a notebook and flipped through it. “But they haven’t released the name of the third kid yet.”

“No, Sheriff Atkins is getting ready for a press conference this afternoon, until then he’s keeping this on the QT, thinks maybe the kidnapper might slip up and reveal something she shouldn’t know yet.” Katie was whispering to Dean, like this was some kind of great conspiracy.

She looked at the clock and stood up. “Tell you what, it’s time for my break. And on my break, I might just happen to drive past the house where that latest kid went missing.“ Katie walked to the other side of the desk, crooked her arm over Dean’s. “I could use some company.”

“Sure, me and – “

“Private tour,” Katie interjected, picking up a folder on her desk. “There’s a memo in here; all about the newest kidnapping. I mean, it will be released to the press later on today, so I’m not really breaking any rules, but if you want to get an early previeww…”

An older woman, probably Katie’s replacement, entered the lobby, headed for the desk.

“I need to go to the library and do some research anyway,” Sam said, to no one in particular as Dean and Katie were staring at each other, oblivious to anyone else in the room. The bastard.

“I’m ready to see anything you have to show me,” Dean replied to Katie and then his hand brushed Sam’s shoulder as they walked by. Huh, he hadn’t been invisible after all.

The library was just a few blocks away, so Sam walked there, trying (and failing miserably) not to think about Dean and Katie – Dean and Katie flirting, Dean smiling at her as he leaned closer - Dean and Katie kissing -

“Anything I can help you with sweetie?” Sam startled. He had walked to the library, up the stairs and to the librarian’s desk without even realizing it. The librarian had dark hair piled up on her head, a pair of thick brown glasses covering her brown eyes. She could have been anywhere from thirty to sixty, the caked-on makeup made it hard to tell. She was smiling at Sam, probably glad to have someone to talk to. As far as Sam could tell, the only other person in the library was an elderly woman, asleep in an oversized tan chair, with an open book in her lap.

Showtime. “I was –“ He stopped. His voice was actually squeaking. Wishing fervently for a bottle of water, and even more fervently that Dean was here to do the talking, Sam swallowed a few times and tried again. “I was wondering if you knew of any books on the town’s history?”

“Any books on Jayne?” she asked, patting her hair in a way that oddly reminded Sam of Katie fidgeting with her hair while flirting with Dean. “Nobody has been that desperate for writing material.”

“Any old newspapers then, maybe from the turn of the century?”

“I think there are some on microfilm in the back. Pretty sure the machine is broken, though.” The librarian got up from her desk and walked over to Sam. “Wow, you are really tall, aren’t you? They must grow them really big where you come from. Where exactly is that?”

“Kansas ma’am.” Sam tried to take a step away from her without being too obvious about it. Her flowery perfume was pretty overwhelming.

“Call me Shirley.” She moved in even closer, close enough that they were almost touching. “So, what should I call you?”

“Leave that poor boy alone. You got him looking plumb scared to death.” Sam jumped; he had forgotten that the old woman was there. 

Shirley sighed and went back to her seat behind the desk, much to Sam’s relief. “I was just trying to be helpful,” shemuttered. “If you want to know something about the town, you should ask Mrs. Summers. She’s lived here forever.”

“Who might you be and what do you want to know?” Mrs. Summers barked. “And come over here and sit by me. It’s straining my eyes trying to look up so high.”

Sam pulled one of the other stuffed chairs closer to Mrs. Summers and sat down. A glance at the desk showed that Shirley was suddenly engrossed in something on her computer, pointedly ignoring them. Sam forgot all about the alias Dean had given him to use and blurted his real name. “Sam Singer ma’am pleased to meet you. I was wondering if something like this had happened before, with children going missing.”

“That’s a strange question to ask. Do you think we just routinely lose track of our children?” Mrs. Summers peered at him behind her pink wire framed glasses.

“No, of course not. I work for - I’m an assistant to a reporter. It’s online. I was just curious about the town’s history.” Could he sound any more lame? If he tried really hard? He wished there was a way he could have borrowed Dean’s silver tongue.

“I’m sure a smart boy like you knows what curiosity did to the cat. Hear it happens to nosy outsiders as well.” Mrs. Summers waggled her finger at Sam then burst out laughing. “You should see the look on your face. You can relax, I was just having a little bit of fun with you. As it so happens, there were some kids that went missing, must have been near eighty years ago now. Couldn’t have nothing to do with what’s happening now. Not unless the kidnapper is even more of an ancient relic than I am.”

“No, probably not.” Sam fidgeted in the chair for a moment, going over the few facts he knew about the Lamia. He looked over at the desk, but Shirley was no longer there. “Do you happen to know if they ever found those kids?”

“My memory isn’t what it used to be, can’t say that I can recall.”

Sam stood up, and began to thank her for her time.

“For someone so curious, you do throw in the towel mighty easily. Maybe I do remember something. Could be the truth, might not be. A week or so after those three kids went missing, a man showed up at the old police station. He was about my age now, barely could walk his back was so bent. Said he was one of those missing kids. No one believed him, thought maybe he knew something about them though, thought he was covering up for someone, I guess. They threw him in the county jail. He died that night, I think. Anyway, I was a young thing when all this happened. I knew the funeral director; he was a big round guy named Kevin. He told me when he undressed the old man to prepare the body, that old man had a birthmark on his shoulder. Big and purple, just like one of the boys who went missing did. Never knew if I should believe him or not, but you got to admit it makes a great story.”

She looked up at Sam who was taking notes on his phone. “Back then we had no TV or fancy gizmos like that phone there. Told each other stories for scares and giggles, that’s all that was. Because little boys don’t age decades in just a few days, now do they?”

“Cookie?”

The voice was very close, and Sam bit down a curse, he had no idea she had come back, or had gotten so close to him. Shirley was smiling up at him, a tray of cookies in her hand.

“Uh – sure.” Sam was always hungry and had an enormous sweet tooth. His dad grumbled about how much food he ate, but always made sure there was lots of snacks around so that Sam was never truly hungry His life was a continuous stage of low-grade hunger though.

“Take two,” she offered, in a tone of voice that was as sweet as her perfume. “A boy like you needs to keep up his strength.”

“Leave that poor boy alone,” Mrs. Summers admonished for the second time. “And I’d like a cookie too. And juice if you have it.”

Shirley sighed but obediently brought the tray of cookies over to Mrs. Summers. “It’s my last day of work today,” sheexplained. “I brought the cookies to celebrate.”

It was kind of sad, bringing your own refreshments for your retirement. Mrs. Summers was apparently not feeling the same sympathy. “Thank God, maybe the next librarian will have some sense.”

Shirley ignored her; attention back on Sam. “I do have some sodas in the back – maybe you’d like to go back there with me, help me carry them out.” 

Sam had a sense that she just wanted to get him alone. He quickly swallowed, finishing the last of the second cookie. “I’d love to ma’am, but my friend is waiting for me, but thank you so much for the cookies, they were very good.” He turned to Mrs. Summers. “And thank you for the story, it was very interesting.”

He didn’t even wait for them to say goodbye back, just scurried out the library, mind already on the Lamia and how Mrs. Summers story tied into its patterns. The last sound he heard before leaving the library was Mrs. Summers’ laughter.

Sam picked up a map at the local gas station, along with a Coke and some gummy bears. Dean still wasn’t back when he made it to the motel room. Sam turned on his laptop, looking for anything about Lamias or ancient myths concerning children.

He was still deep into the research when the door opened and Dean sauntered in. Sam’s nose wrinkled; Dean reeked of cheap perfume.

“You and Katie have a good time?” Sam asked, pointedly turning his attention back to his laptop.

“Ah, is my Sammy jealous?” Dean asked, ignoring the cold shoulder Sam was trying to give him. He sat down on the bed beside Sam, making the mattress bounce several times. “You have nothing to worry about, she’s not as cute as you.”

“You know, you are nowhere near as irresistible as you think you are,” Sam grumbled, but he was having a hard time hiding his smile.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Dean responded, blowing into Sam’s ear. Sam jerked, almost dropping the laptop in the process. Dean laughed. “So, find anything out in the library?”

Sam told him about the old lady in the library, and about the boy who had aged many years in a few weeks. “I’ve been researching ancient myths and I don’t think this Lamia, or whatever it is, is eating the kids, or even killing them outright. I think she’s stealing their essence.”

“Their what now?” Dean asked, leaning back on the bed on his elbows, long lean body being very distracting. “How does someone steal a kid’s essence?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know, but if she has been alive for hundreds, or thousands of years, it might be the way she stays young. More importantly, this might be a lengthy process. We might have time to save the kids.”

“I knew I did the right thing by bringing you,” Dean said, nudging Sam’s knee with his foot. “Now we just need to know where she is and how to kill her. What we do know is where she’s been, thanks to Katie.”

Sam bit his lip hard not to say something catty about Katie. He was a Stanford scholar after all, he should be above petty jealously.

Should be being the operative words.

Sam brought out the map, which earned him yet more praise from Dean, and they placed the map on the wall and pinpointed where the houses were. Katie had given Dean the press release which said that eight-year-old Patsy had been kidnapped from her locked home the night before. Her mother had stopped by the room around eleven, when she herself was headed to bed and saw Patsy sleeping and in the morning, Patsy was gone.

The three homes where the children disappeared were all in the same general area. “If she’s carrying around children, as a snake or a woman or something in between, she wouldn’t be taking them far,” Dean mused as they studied the map. “She lives somewhere in this neighborhood, I guarantee it.”

Sam nodded. “She wouldn’t risk being seen. Also, she seems to be a creature of habit. She’s stayed here all this time; she kidnapped exactly three children several decades apart. I think it’s possible she lives in the same house too, so we are probably looking for a house that’s old, maybe even over a century old.”

“This is an old town; I saw more than a few houses with historical markers while Katie was driving me around,” Dean informed Sam. “I say we head out, begin where the latest kidnapping was and circle outward from there. If that Lamia creature is anywhere near this neighborhood, we are going to find her.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dean was right, there were a lot of old houses in the neighborhood surrounding where the children went missing.

They automatically dismissed out of hand the ones with more than one car in the driveway, with bikes and children’s toys scattered around. The Lamia lived alone; Sam would bet his future at Stanford on it. 

That left them two houses that were possibilities. One had lights on, and the open carport showed a car parked. 

“Let’s see what’s behind door number two then,” Dean proposed, as they walked past three other houses to the other possible residence of the Lamia. It was a two-story home, red (but faded) brick, long windows with the curtains drawn, all the curtains were a dark pink. The lawn was very tidy, hedges trimmed, four pink rose bushes in a row lining the front of the house, with a pink pelican guarding them.

“Creepy. I think this is the one,” Dean announced, regarding the pink pelican as it had somehow personally offended him.

“I don’t think the love of pink means someone is evil,” Sam argued half-heartedly. The house did give him the creeps.

“As if you haven’t read Harry Potter. Multiple times,” Dean replied, as he looked up and down the street. “The coast is clear. I’m going in.”

“You can’t just break in,” Sam argued as Dean searched his pockets, pulling out a picklock in triumph. “It’s broad daylight.”

“Which is why you are going to be my lookout. Just text me if the homeowner returns,” Dean instructed as he started toward the back of the house. He turned to face Sam, walking backwards. “Don’t look so worried, I know what I am doing, I am a professional!” And promptly tripped over the pelican, landing on his butt. He scrambled up quickly. “I knew that thing was evil.”

Sam watched as Dean disappeared behind the house. 

He looked at his watch. 2:17. He looked up and down the sidewalk, nothing. Looked at the house. Nothing.

Checked his watch again. 2:18.

Sam walked to the left so he could see the side of the house where Dean had disappeared. No sign of Dean. Two more pink rose bushes, one in a trellis that creeped its way up the house. It had been there for a while; it had grown almost to the roof.

Checked the time. 2:20. What was taking Dean so long?

Sam almost shrieked when a hand touched his arm. He instinctively drew his hand away and found himself looking at Mrs. Summers.

“So, are you going to tell me what your doing sneaking around my place?” Mrs. Summers asked. She was leaning on a cane, eyes narrowed at Sam. “I’m going to tell you right now; I haven’t got anything of value in that house.”

“No – I would never. I’m not sneaking, I promise. I just – I admire old houses and I really like the look of yours,” Sam stuttered; he could feel the sweat begin to pool at his neck.

“Big fan of pink, are you?” Mrs. Summers asked. “I don’t know what game you are playing young man, but I really don’t like liars.”

Sam could feel his shirt getting wet, sweat soaking through it. “I – there is no game. I really was, I was just walking, and I saw this place –”

Mrs. Summers laughed, leaned her head back and guffawed. Sam looked at her, uncertain if he should just take off running.

“You just stick your leg out and let me pull it, don’t you boy? Well, if you are so mighty fond of old houses, you might as well take a look inside. I’ll make us some tea.” And she grabbed his arm, her cane still held firmly in her other hand.

Sam really didn’t want to go in that house. But he couldn’t leave Dean all alone in there, and he couldn’t continue just to stand awkwardly outside. “Sure, I’d love to.”

The,entryway was very ornate, more pink flowers in vases, two statues of children made of stone stood watch on either side. The foyer led to a big room, but Sam didn’t get much of a glance at it as Mrs. Summers herded him the other way, which turned out to be into a very large, old fashioned kitchen. There was a big bar in the middle, made of some kind of dark wood. A huge light was above it; it took Sam a second to realize it was in the shape of a rooster. “I’ll give you the grand tour after we have our tea. I’m curious Sam, just what exactly are you doing here in Jayne?”

Sam pulled out his phone again as Mrs. Summers turned her attention to the red tea kettle. He tried to text Dean:She’s here, but it came out The Shere instead, his fingers were so wobbly. He was about to try again, when Mrs. Summers appeared at his elbow. “Well?” she asked.

Sam had totally forgotten the question.

Just then there was a huge crash somewhere in the house.

“Damn cats,” Mrs. Summers mumbled and then pointed at Sam with her cane. “Don’t you go wandering off now, I’ll be right back.”

Sam texted Dean again, this time slowly and carefully.

And waited.

The,seconds ticked very slowly by, no return text from Dean, no sign of Mrs. Summers.

He realized, moments too late, that the text he just sent Dean would have pinged and might have given away Dean’s location.

Sam’s heart began to jackhammer and his palms were so sweaty the phone almost dropped out of his hand. The house was too quiet. He may have put Dean in danger by sending the text. He couldn’t just hide in the kitchen forever.

Sam wished his dad was here, he would know what to do and how to do it.

Sam breathed deeply through his nose and out his mouth, but it did little to calm him. He left the kitchen, softly calling out for Mrs. Summers. She was a little old lady after all, she could have fallen and gotten hurt.

Or she was the monster and he was about to die.

On the other side of the kitchen was a hallway. Sam walked down it; he felt his whole body shaking. Some hunter he was.

The first room was small and almost empty. A bookcase, a rug, chair, a few pictures on the wall. He stepped inside to look at the pictures, one was unmistakably Mrs. Summers but, judging by her outfit, it was taken somewhere around the turn of the century. He thought he heard a noise from somewhere, a creaky sound like old pipes make and he hurriedly turned to leave the room. He tripped on the corner of the rug and snagged the top of his shoe on something jutting out of underneath it. 

Sam stilled, but there was no further sound. Barely breathing he was trying so hard to keep quiet, Sam bent down and moved the rug out of the way.

It was a trap door.

Sam rocked back on his heels, biting his lip in uncertainty. He didn’t want to text Dean again, to further risk the Lamia finding him. He really didn’t want to go down a trap door by himself. If the creature was down there, he stood no chance. He didn’t have a weapon; he didn’t know where Dean was.

His mind raced with the lists of why he should go down the trap door and why he shouldn’t, but ultimately the thought that the children might be down there was what decided it for him. Sam forced himself to go back to the kitchen, the hallway was still silent, no sign of Dean or Mrs. Summers. Sam grabbed the biggest knife he could find and headed back to the room.

The trap door opened easily. There were stairs leading down to pitch-black darkness.

Carefully, because his legs were shaking and he couldn’t see beyond the first couple of steps, Sam made his way down.

The room was silent, dark. Sam felt along the wall for a light switch but could not locate one. Cautiously he kept moving around the wall, one hand on it at all times, stepping slowly in case there was something in his path.

His foot hit something metal.

It was at that moment he remembered his cell phone had a flashlight feature.

If there was a contest for worst hunter ever, Sam was pretty sure he would win it. 

He pulled out his phone and fumbled with it a moment, he unlocked the phone and searched for the flashlight.

He turned it toward his feet.

It was a cage, about half the size of Sam and in it was a small child curled up in the middle.

“Hey kid, hey Patsy,” Sam whispered, gently shaking the cage. 

“She won’t answer. I’ve got her put under, until I need her that is.”

Sam jumped, almost dropping his phone in the process. He held on tighter to the knife, gripping it so tight his fingers hurt.

“I’ve done warned you about curiosity and the cat, but people now days; they just don’t know what’s good for them.” The dim light from the flashlight revealed that Mrs. Summers was kneeling on the ground, in front of one of the cages. There was someone lying on the ground beside her, but it wasn’t a child. His face was old, hair white, and his body was trembling.

Sam swept the flashlight, landing on another cage. That boy he recognized as Thomas, so this was…as impossible as it seemed to be, he had to be. “Billy?” Sam asked.

He stepped closer, his hand shaking so much that the light on the phone was erratic, sometimes landing on Mrs. Summers and sometimes on the floor, the wall, and the cage. Now that he was closer, he could see markings on the concrete, and a bowl of something near Mrs. Summers. Billy’s shirt was off, and there were blue markings covering him.

“I knew you were trouble first time I laid eyes on you. With your pointed questions and curiosity about things that don’t concern you. I thought I’d feed you a tiny bit of the truth, see if you’d run with it so I could figure out what I was dealing with. I know about your friend as well. I couldn’t find him, but I will.” Mrs. Summers stood up, extremely easily for someone so old. She was no longer holding the cane or wearing glasses. “Now, you be good and let me finish off Billy here, and then you, me and your friend are going to have a little chat.”

Sam rushed forward, knife in hand. He had no conscious thought of attacking, he just did. As he got near her, she mumbled something under her breath and the knife went flying out of his hand, clattering as it fell to the concrete floor.

“That was rude, and I can’t abide rudeness,” Mrs. Summers snapped. Her eyes were changing shape, and color. “Used to be a child or two or three disappeared and no one paid much attention. Children disappeared, and like the plague or a drought, it was just another fact of life. Now you have people sticking their noses where they don’t belong, people like you invading my home, my sanctuary.”

Her voice was changing. Her S’s were hisses now. Her neck was getting longer. From her neck down, she was a snake. Her face was elongated, but still looked like Mrs. Summers. Just a grotesque version of her.

Sam wondered if it was possible to actually die of fright. He’d have to research that later. If there was a later.

Mrs. Summers’ snake like body coiled all around Sam’s body, his legs, his waist, his chest. Billy was moaning on the floor and Mrs. Summers turned her now small, serpentine eyes toward him. “I’ve got to finish him, before old age gets him first,” she hissed. She raised her head up, the rest of her body still covered Sam’s. “Tora diki sas einai diki mou,” she chanted. There was a vapor like substance rising from Billy. “Tora diki sas einai diki mou.” Her voice grewlouder, more insistent.

The vapor was rising, headed toward the Lamia. 

It wasn’t Latin, Sam raced through other possibilities in his mind. Considering her background – maybe Ancient Greek?

He didn’t know the language, had no idea what she was saying. 

She was going to kill this boy and then she was going to kill him. He was going to die a virgin. Of all the things that could have done it, that was the thought that unfroze Sam. He opened his mouth to yell for - 

“Wow, you are one ugly mother-fucking snake. No wonder you don’t like staying in that form.” The snake hissed and turned her head toward Dean. Dean was holding a gun, pointed at the Lamia. 

The vapor was still in the air, hovering somewhere near the Lamia. Billy was still on the floor, barely moving.

Sam’s mind was racing.

Dean approached slowly; gun held out in front of him. For a panicky moment, Sam was sure Dean was going to shoot. The bullet would go right through the snake’s body into his. Shot through the heart and you’re to blame – he was about to die, and he had that song of all songs running through his head. Great.

The snake was still holding Sam firmly in place, while she was looking at Dean.

“Getting kinky with a snake huh Sam?” Dean asked, as he inched steadily closer. The snake’s head was weaving back and forth, it’s body still held Sam’s body in place, he could feel the tail around his ankles. He looked down, confirming it was the snake’s tail. As the snake and Dean stared at each other, Sam lifted his foot up as far as he could and then stomped down on the tail. He missed the end of it, which he was aiming for but apparently it still made an impact.

The snake hissed loudly, head lifted up and attention back on Sam. Just as she began to strike, Dean picked up theknife from the floor and in one swift move, he cut the Lamia’s head off, almost nicking Sam’s shoulder in the process.

The snake’s head hit the ground with a loud plop. The snake’s body tightened around Sam for a moment, and then turned into dust. When Sam looked down, the head was still there, her eyes were blinking, her mouth was moving but no sound was coming out.

“Well, hell,“ Dean said and nudged the head with his foot. “I guess we could try burning it.” He looked at Billy and whistled. “That one of the kids? Damn, she must have sucked the life right out of him.”

“Wait.” The mist was hovering over the Lamia, and Billy’s body was now all blue, the same color as the markings.

The spell.

He had a flash of memory, of his father on the phone, speaking to a hunter. “If the spell is still active, you can try saying it backwards. Don’t always work, but it’s worth a shot. But if you get the words wrong – well, no telling what you might stir up.”

Sam was always good with languages. He repeated the words of the spell to himself, slowly. Tora diki sas einai diki mou. He didn’t have to know what the words meant, he just had to repeat them backwards.

Dean was watching him, a concerned look on his face. The Lamia’s mouth was working, like she was trying to say something but couldn’t get the words out. Billy’s body was convulsing; it was now or never.

It probably wouldn’t work, but he couldn’t let Billy die without giving it a shot.

“Mou diki einai sas diki tora.“ He spoke each syllable carefully.

The head shrieked.

Billy was still shaking apart on the ground.

He said the words again, quicker with more confidence. “Mou diki einai sas diki tora.” The mist-like substance that had been hovering near the Lamia, began to shimmer, grow, and move.

He said the words again.

“Sam, what are you doing?” Dean asked.

Sam ignored him, saying the words once more.

The mist had grown so large it covered Billy’s body entirely. Billy opened his mouth and the mist descended, like water being poured through a funnel.

The head rolled and hit Sam’s leg. Sam screamed as Dean rushed toward him. Dean lifted his foot, intent on smashing the head, but the head turned to dust before his boot touched it.

They looked over at Billy, and where an old man was lying seconds before, there was now a child, fast asleep but obviously breathing. He was no longer covered with blue.

“Fuck, Sam. I don’t know what you did but – you saved that boy.”

Sam’s relieved laughter was tinged with a heavy dose of hysteria.

Sam headed toward Billy, but Dean held him back. “No, we can’t leave our fingerprints on him. We can’t leave any trace of ourselves here.” He was suddenly serious, his eyes roaming the basement. “We need to get out of here, we’ll call the police when we are far enough away.”

It was then that Sam realized his phone was still in his hand, crushed by the snake. 

Dean took the knife with them and by the time they left the house by the backdoor, Sam was soaring on adrenaline. 

He had faced the monster and he lived.

There was a path behind the house, overgrown and neglected and they walked it until they made their way down the street and into a park. Gean’s car was parked there, near a park bench.

Dean pulled out one of his phones from the glove compartment and returned to the park bench. Sam watched as Dean called the police and gave the address of the house. It all felt surreal now, like he was watching this happen from somewhere above them.

“Hurt anywhere?” Dean asked. He scooted closer to Sam on the bench, pushing up Sam’s shirt as he checked for injuries. “She was squeezing you pretty tightly there Sammy.”

“I’m fine.” Sam answered, and he realized, despite his shaky hands and the hysteria still hovering in the background, it was true. “I’m fine.”

“You were awesome back there Sam. How’d you know what words to use to get that boy back? I would have never thought of doing something like that. Dad, neither.”

Dean was looking at him with wonder in his eyes. Not the other way around, like it should be.

Sam shrugged. “I didn’t know it would work, I just got lucky, that’s all.”

“You saved that kid,” Dean said to him. There was the sound of faint sirens in the distance. They were too far away to see the house, but the increase in nearby traffic was apparent.

“I wouldn’t have been able to, if you hadn’t saved me first,” Sam pointed out. “I thought I was a goner.”

“Not a chance, we are too pretty to die.” Dean pulled Sam’s head down and Sam closed his eyes, barely daring to breathe. Dean’s lips were soft and warm, and Sam deepened the kiss, wanted to live in this moment forever.

“Gross fuckers.” Sam pulled back quickly, a trio of young college-aged men were walking past the bench. One of them snickered at the comment.

“Oh, hell Kenny, leave ‘em alone. Your mom will kill you if you get into any more trouble.” the third man commented.

Dean stood up, body relaxed and a huge smile on his face. “Yeah Ken-Ken, listen to your friend.”

Kenny bristled and despite his friends’ moans of displeasure, strutted up to Dean. “If you want a fight, you’ve picked the wrong guy. I’ll take both you and your fairy friend on and leave you both in pieces.”

To Sam’s shock, Dean raised his hand in surrender. “I know when I’m outmatched. My boy and me, we were about to leave anyway.” Dean held out his hand. “No hard feelings huh Kenny?

Kenny snorted and looked back at his friends who were maintaining a careful distance. “Pansies,” he muttered under his breath but loudly enough, so he was sure they’d both hear. He took Dean’s hand. From their faces, Sam could see there was some kind of macho squeezing contest going on, and then Dean stumbled, falling into Kenny. “Sorry Ken-doll, I guess I’m a little light on my feet.”

One of his friends grabbed Kenny’s arm before Kenny could react. “C’mon, we are going to be late.”

“Fine, okay, but you had better be gone when I get back,” Kenny pointed at them.

“Don’t worry Kenny, you’ve done scared me straight,” Dean yelled as the trio disappeared behind some trees.

“I thought you were going to hit him,” Sam commented, as he stood beside Dean. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed Dean hadn’t.

“Couldn’t risk the attention but damn that punk was asking for it.” Dean pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Sam. It was a wallet, black leather and new. “But the good news is that dinner is on Ken-Ken.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was soaring a few hours later, and it had nothing to do with the beers he gulped down. He tried to hand Sam one. “C’mon Sam, live a little We are fucking heroes man, it’s time to celebrate.”

Sam shook his head. “I think one of us should be sober.”

“The hell with that. Three kids are alive tonight, and it’s because of us. Hell, one is alive totally because of you and your big ass brain.” Dean took a few steps forward, pulled Sam into an embrace that Sam was in no way prepared for. At first, he held his body stiff, too shocked to move, but then he let himself melt into it, and placed his head on Dean’s shoulder. 

“I thought you promised me a trip to the fair.” Sam reluctantly pulled away from Dean.

“Damn right, we deserve this celebration. I’ll even let you shower first. Now get that hot ass of yours in gear.” Dean swatted at Sam’s ass. Sam squeaked, and opened the bathroom door. “If you need any help in there Sam, all you have to do is ask,” Dean added, winking at him.

Dean was going to be the death of him, but what a fucking way to go. Sam took a quick shower, changing into a blue t-shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans.

He remembered his shattered phone as he entered the bedroom again. Dean was watching the news; he muted the sound when he saw Sam. The news, predictably, was all about the kids who had been found, there were shots of the house, an ambulance pulling away.

Sam realized how much he wanted to talk to his dad, talk to him about the hunt, what had happened. “Do you have your phone? The Lamia broke mine.”

“That’s what you get for being a snake’s main squeeze,” Dean admonished teasingly, then reached into his pocket for his phone. “Damn, it’s dead, I guess I forgot to charge it yesterday. I’ll let it charge while we hit the fair.”

It didn’t take long until they were back in Dean’s car, headed south to the fairgrounds. Sam made himself a mental note to call Dad when he got back to the hotel, he was probably home and worried about Sam by now.

The fair wasn’t a big one, maybe six or seven rides, several food booths, with games lining one side of the fairway. “Fried twinkies Sammy, we have to try those.” There wasn’t a kid there whose smile was bigger than Dean’s.

The night was warm, the stars were out, the moon seemed huge and Dean’s very good mood was infectious. Tomorrow they would head back to his home, this might be his last chance in years – maybe ever – to spend time with Dean. He wasn’t going to waste a moment of it.

He was surprised when Dean grabbed his hand as they waited to ride the Tilt-A- Whirl. Even more surprised later on when Dean placed his hand in Sam’s back pocket and squeezed. “Just checking out the merchandise,” Dean said, when Sam looked over at him. “Might want to sample the goods later.” He was giving an exaggerated leer and Sam laughed, but deep inside he was hoping there was something serious underneath the teasing. He could accept that Dean would flirt with anyone with a pulse, but he was still hoping that all this was flirting was leading somewhere.

“Hey Robert.” Came a female voice from behind them. For a second they continued their walk toward the cotton candy booth, until both remembered simultaneously that Robert was Dean.

They turned to see Katie, winded a bit, right behind them. To Sam’s shock, Dean drew him closer, arm around his waist, hands rubbing against Sam’s side.

“They found those kids,” Katie was saying to Dean, once again ignoring Sam. “I didn’t know if you heard or not. They took them to the hospital, but they are all going to be okay.” Katie’s eyes were now latched onto where Dean’s hand was rubbing Sam’s side, causing Sam’s shirt to inch up and down with the movement.

“That’s great news. I’ll call my editor when I get back to the hotel. Any chance of getting quotes from the parents?” Dean asked. Sam was impressed by what a damn good liar Dean was.

“I don’t know,” Katie said, enthusiasm dimming rather obviously. “I didn’t know you two were together. I thought he was your intern. Isn’t that unethical or something?”

“Ethics has nothing to do with the appeal of this boy.” Dean smirked at her as he pushed his hand inside Sam’s shirt, bare skin now rubbing bare skin.

“Oh, okay. My friends are waiting so I’ll just go,” Katie said. She hesitated a moment, as if waiting for Dean to protest her leaving and when that didn’t happen, she scurried back into the crowd.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” Sam insisted, trying to pull away from Dean and his teasing fingers. “She’s gone now.”

“Who said anything about pretending?” Dean asked. He turned so he was facing Sam, and then pulled Sam’s face down until their lips met. It was a short kiss, just a brushing of lips really but Sam could feel his pulse elevate. “This is a date, right? I always put out on the first date.” Dean stepped back, took Sam’s hand again. “And I sure fucking hope you do too.”

They ate some pretty disgusting corn dogs and by this time Dean had eaten so much junk food that Sam was more than half afraid Dean’s stomach would explode on one of the rides that spun them around. It was getting late; the crowd was thinning out.

“Hey, want to win your fella something nice?” One of the barkers asked. It took Sam a moment to realize he was talking to him.

“Yeah Sam, win your fellow a prize,” Dean echoed. “I want a big old teddy bear.”

It was one of those games where you had to hit a target with a rifle. Sam was aces at sharp shooting games on his X-Box, but he had never been able to hit jack shit on these games. Still, with Dean practically daring him to do it, he would have to try.

$10 bought five shots. Sam missed four of them, barely hitting the target on the last one. He was given a plastic yo-yo as a gift which he sheepishly gave to Dean. 

“I will treasure it always,” Dean proclaimed as he put it in his jacket pocket.

Sam thought that was the end of it, when Dean placed a $20 on the counter. “I bet that polar bear over there, that I can hit that target 10 times in a row.”

There wasn’t hardly anyone else around, most of the fair goers were going for one last ride before the fair closed down. Sam guessed that what was why the man was willing. “Sure boss, you hit that target 10 out of 10 times and that is yours.”

It was one of the biggest items there, took up an enormous amount of display space.

Dean picked up the gun. “The gun is pulling to the left and high. The sights on these things are always a little bit off. But when you are as good as I am –” 10 shots, each in quick succession, Sam didn’t take his eyes off of Dean, he knew without looking at the target that Dean had hit each one. “You can make the game your bitch,” he finished.

“Nothing wrong with the sights,” the man grumbled as he handed over the polar bear. “We have an honest –”

“Yeah, save it for the suckers, nobody here cares.” Dean proudly handed Sam the bear.

Sam wrapped his arm around the huge thing, feeling ridiculously happy. “You think I am going to put out just cause you won me a bear?” Sam asked.

“I think you are going to put out because I am the hottest thing you’ve ever seen,” Dean answered and before Sam could even begin to form a retort, Dean grabbed his hand. “C’mon, we got to ride the Ferris Wheel before the whole thing shuts down.”

“Ferris Wheel?” Sam managed to gasp as he was pulled through the crowd trying to exit, to the center of the fairgrounds where the Ferris Wheel was located. “Isn’t that a little tame for you?”

“Depends on how you ride it.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Sam and then dropped his hand. “Wait here.”

Sam waited, watched as the lights went out on the other rides one by one. Dean was talking to the operator of the Ferris Wheel, opened his wallet, and pulled out a handful of bills. He was smiling when he returned to Sam.

“C’mon, he’s giving us five minutes. That should be more than enough time.”

Before Sam could ask for what, he was being dragged to the Ferris Wheel. Dean took the polar bear out of Sam’s arms and handed it to the operator.

The operator was silent as he pulled the bar over them and hit the lever of the ride.

It was strange looking down to see a mostly dark and mostly deserted fairgrounds. There were still a few stragglers, a group gathered at the booth that fried literally every food imaginable (Dean’s favorite of course). 

Dean grabbed Sam’s hand and held it in Sam’s lap. The pressure of their hands together over his groin had Sam’s mind shifting from the fairgrounds to how he hoped the rest of the night would go.

If he was squeezed by a giant monster snake tomorrow, hopefully at least he wouldn’t die a virgin.

When the Ferris Wheel got to the top, it stopped.

Sam looked at Dean a bit worriedly. “I hope it’s not stuck.”

“I think it’s just fine.” Dean took Sam’s hand and placed it on the bar in front of them, and then placed the other hand there also. “Keep them there.” 

Sam did, watching transfixed as Dean undid his belt, “You can’t,” he protested when he realized where this was headed. “Someone will see.”

“Way up here?” Dean asked. “Relax Sammy, I’m just introducing you to the mile-high club.” His fingers were pushing down Sam’s zipper, his hand was firm against Sam’s cock, still covered by his briefs.

“I don’t think we are up a mile,” Sam muttered distractedly as Dean’s fingers began stroking. Even through the cloth, the feel was intoxicating. Sam was breathing harder, body flushing. His fingers gripped the bar tighter. 

“Close enough,” Dean replied and he inched Sam’s briefs down, just far enough to pull Sam’s cock out. “Wow, Sam, you really are big all over.”

Sam squirmed as Dean began stroking in earnest. It was a little dry, a little rough, but the pre-come he was producing in embarrassingly high amount was enough to ease the way a bit. Plus, Dean’s fingers on him, Dean’s eyes latched on to his, the way that Dean squeezed the tip of Sam’s cock just right, was enough to make Sam’s entire body quiver. Seconds in, and he was already close.

“C’mon Sam, I want to see you come.” Dean leaned in; lips so close to Sam’s that Sam could feel the words as Dean spoke them.“You are the hottest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”

The kiss was rough, teeth and tongue and Dean tasted so good and Dean gripped Sam’s cock just right and Sam came, all over Dean’s hand, all over his lap.

“Fuck,” Dean broke the kiss, panting almost as much as Sam was. “I can’t wait to get you back to the hotel, lay you out on the bed –”

The Ferris Wheel began to move again. Sam realized that his dick was still out, and Dean’s hand and his jeans were covered in come. “He’s going to know what we just did,” he said as he hurriedly placed his dick where it belonged and zipped up his pants. Dean wiped his hand on the seat of the Ferris Wheel, totally unconcerned

“Okay guys, they are closing everything down,” the operator told them as he stepped up to lift up the safety bar.

Sam’s jeans had a very large, very obvious wet spot that everyone would see as soon as he got off of the Ferris Wheel.

Dean stepped off the ride and then held his hand out to the operator. “Hey hand me that polar bear, will you? He’s cranky when he’s not holding that thing.”

Sam, torn between embarrassment and gratitude, settled for sticking his tongue out at Dean as he held the polar bear in front of him.

“The fair is now closed. Please make your way to the exit immediately,” came a tinny voice over the loudspeaker.

Dean’s grin was dangerous in its infectiousness. “Race you Sammy.” And then he was off.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam deposited the polar bear on his bed, grimacing about the feel of dried come sticking to him. “I’m taking a shower,” he announced to Dean, who had headed to the motel refrigerator and pulled out a couple of beers.

“I’ll be waiting right here for you,” Dean replied, sitting on his bed, already drinking one of the beers. His legs were spread, the fabric taut over his crotch. “The shower is in there.” Dean smirked, pointing to the bathroom. Sam blushed at being caught staring.

The shower was quick, Sam’s mind was racing quicker. At the fair, Dean had kissed him, had touched him, had whispered things he would like to do to Sam. But this was Dean – maybe he was teasing, maybe he didn’t mean it.

Sam was going home tomorrow. Back to his real life, headed to Stanford.

This might be his only opportunity to have what he had wanted since he was old enough to know what sex was. If Dean was willing, he was more than ready.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, leaving the rest of him bare and walked back into the motel bedroom.

Dean was on his second beer, watching a procedural cop show. Sam stood just past the doorway, suddenly unsure.

Dean wolf whistled at him, and Sam could feel the blush begin on his chest and inch it’s way up.

It was now or never.

Sam dropped the towel, hoping his actions would speak for him because right now he felt incapable of using actual words.

Dean grinned and pulled his own shirt off. His body was a little smaller than Sam’s but much more muscular. Tight muscled chest leading to a tight stomach, his body was just as perfect as his face, which really wasn’t fair at all but hey, merry early Christmas to Sam.

“You sure about this?” Dean asked, approaching Sam slowly as if he were a horse that might spook. “Because I’ve wanted you for a long time, I just want to make sure you want this too.”

Dean was right in front of him, brilliant green eyes looking right into his. “I want to,” Sam confirmed.

“Really?” Dean asked, and his hands were on Sam’s arms and he was pulling him closer and oh God he smelled so good. “Because the way you are shaking leads me to think otherwise.”

Dean’s hands were stroking gently up and down Sam’s arm. “I just – I never, not with a guy I mean. But I want to,” Sam stuttered out.

“Okay let’s do this.” Dean steered him to the bed, indicating he should sit, which Sam did. Dean pulled out 2 more beers from the mini and handed Sam one.

“I’m not 21,” Sam protested.

“Like anyone waits until their 21,” Dean replied with an accompanying eye roll. “I think I was like 14 when I began stealing booze from Dad. Go on, it will help you relax a little.”

Sam sipped cautiously, nose turning up, it had a bitter, dark taste to it. Dean laughed. “It gets better,” he assured Sam.

“So, before I get you drunk and have my way with you,” Dean continued, putting his hand on Sam’s leg and short circuiting what was left of Sam’s brain. “Tell me what it is you want.”

“Whatever you want,” Sam said in a rush, almost choking on the beer he had just begun to swallow. He coughed several times and Dean pounded him on the back, then caressed Sam’s bare skin there.

“It’s not my first time,” Dean replied. “Tonight, sweetheart it’s all about you and it’s anything you want and trust me when I say I don’t make this offer often.”

“I want –” Sam gestured to Dean and then to himself.

“Never was good at charades,” Dean professed, finishing what was now his third beer while Sam had only drank about a quarter of his. “Spell it out for me geek boy.”

Sam took a large gulp of the beer. It didn’t taste better, but he was beginning to get a warm fuzzy feeling. “I want you to – I want –” Saying he wanted Dean to make love to him would have sounding like a lovesick teenager (which to be fair he was) and his mind went totally blank on other words for what he wanted.

Dean finally took pity on him. “You want to bottom?” he asked.

Sam nodded his head as he took another drink. 

“Ever have anything in there?” Dean asked, his hand moving from Sam’s thigh to his crotch. Sam opened his legs wider as if on auto pilot and Dean touched his cock, stroked to the tip, and then went lower. “Any toys, fingers…?”

Sam blushed again and took the last few drinks of his beer, holding it in his hand as if the can was a lifeline. “Fingers,” he mumbled, letting his bangs fall over his eyes.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, and he stood up. Sam was all ready to protest when he saw Dean’s hand on his belt buckle. “Did you like it? Did you stroke your dick while you fingered yourself?”

The aforementioned dick was beginning to swell, due to Dean’s words and Dean’s belt falling to the floor, his jeans and boxers right after. 

“Did you?” Dean asked again and it took Sam a few seconds to focus well enough to answer.

“I liked it,” Sam admitted, and then because the world was a little fuzzy and Dean was standing there like a Greek god all naked and beautiful, he added. “I always pretended it was you.” 

Dean was leaning over him, his arms on either side of him and his mouth was so close as he whispered. “Whatever you imagined, it won’t even be close to the real thing.”

Dean’s dick was between his open legs, Dean’s mouth was on his, tongue pushing against his lips, demanding entrance and Sam let him in. One of Dean’s hands was on the back of his head, pulling him closer and Sam’s whole world was narrowed to the taste and the feel and the powerful presence of Dean. 

“Gonna let me in huh Sammy?” Dean asked. “Are you gonna give up that cherry for me?”

“Yes,” Sam answered, pushing himself further up the bed, spraying his legs open, any sense of shame overridden by an all-consuming need. 

Dean smiled at him and then started rummaging through his bag, coming up with a bottle of lube and a condom. He turned back to Sam, suddenly serious. “If you change your mind at anytime Sam, promise me you’ll tell me.”

“Yeah sure,” Sam promised because fuck no, that wasn’t happening, not when he was this close to having every wet dream he’d ever had come true.

“Also, it’s going to hurt at the beginning. I’ll take it as slow as you need, but it’s still going to feel uncomfortable, still going to be a pinch of pain until we get going,” Dean continued, still maddening so very far away from Sam.

“I know,” Sam replied with impatience. “I’ve read about it. Just c’mon, I’m ready.”

Dean laughed. “Read about it? An internet full of gay porn and you read about it?” Dean was finally approaching the bed again, his cock half hard and big and the tip of it was wet and oh –

“Just fuck me already,” Sam grumbled. Maybe that beer had gone to his head.

Dean crawled back up the bed and his mouth claimed Sam’s again, teeth and lips and tongue and Sam didn’t even notice Dean’s hand reaching down, until he felt the first stroke on his cock. He groaned into Dean’s mouth, causing Dean to chuckle again.

“Here, turn over, this part will be easier on you this way.”

Sam didn’t want to lose Dean’s lips, but he also really wanted to feel Dean inside him, so he obediently flipped over, pushing his ass up into the air as he did so.

There was a slap, a fairly gentle one with just a hint of a sting. “For a virgin, you are all kinds of slutty.”

Before Sam could say anything, something cold was pressing against his hole and Sam felt himself tighten instinctively.

A hand was rubbed against his buttocks. “Relax sweetheart, let me in.”

Sam took a few deep breaths, turned his face to the side and closed his eyes and he willed his body to relax. The calming rubbing on his back didn’t stop, but the finger was back and this time there was a little more pressure. Sam concentrated on relaxing as the tip breached him.

“How does it feel?” Dean asked. “And be honest with me, don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.”

“Uncomfortable,” Sam admitted. “But not bad. I’ve done this part before.” Sam reminded him.

“Yeah, but it feels different when someone else does it right?” Dean asked, as his finger sunk down to the first knuckle 

Sam nodded and Dean’s finger disappeared. Before he had a chance to whine, it was back, slicker and the finger sank in all the way. “Look at that Sammy, just swallowing it whole. Can’t wait to find out how you feel around my cock.”

Sam squirmed and he could feel the finger move inside him. It felt strange, but not in a bad way. One finger became two and Sam could feel it more, had to force himself not to tense up and then Dean found what he was looking for and Sam went from a mostly silent, still participant to a squiggly, squirming, whiny mess.

“Do it again,” Sam mumbled his order against the pillow, arching his back. “Right there, fuck Dean please.”

“I love it when you beg,” Dean’s voice was low and husky and he scissored his fingers, grazing over Sam’s prostate again and again.

Two fingers became three and Sam was so hard, harder than he had ever been. “I’m ready, c’mon Dean please. I swear I’m ready.”

“Okay, okay,” Dean pulled his fingers out. “Turn back over, I want to see you, see what my cock does to you, see your face when you come screaming my name.”

That sounded like a really good plan. Sam turned over, bending his legs, making them as wide as he could comfortably so Dean could fit inside. 

Dean took the other pillow and slid it under Sam’s back then leaned over and kissed him again, hands underneath Sam, pulling him even closer. Dean was on his knees in front of him as he rolled on the condom, his cock was fully hard and so big and for a moment, Sam began to panic, wondering how in hell it was going to fit.

“Relax sweetheart,” Dean reminded him. “Remember to breathe. We’ll go as slow as we need to, we have all night.”

Sam nodded, trying to force back the panic. Dean’s cock was at his entrance and Sam was so overwhelmed he closed his eyes. There was a pause followed by a bit of pressure and then Sam could feel the tip of Dean’s cock breaching him. Dean’s cock already felt too big, felt too much.

“Breathe,” Dean coaxed, fingers stroking over his stomach, bent over him as lips gently caressed his. 

The kiss deepened and as Sam melted into it, he could feel Dean press in just a little deeper and he squirmed a bit, as Dean placed his hands on Sam’s head, kissing him deep and hard.

When Sam pulled away to breathe, Dean slid in further and the pressure was slowly blooming into pain, not more than Sam could handle, but definitely on the uncomfortable side. But Sam had done his research, and he knew he had to get past this before he could get to the good stuff, so he urged Dean to keep on going.

Seconds, or minutes, time had ceased to have any kind of real meaning, Dean was fully inside of him. Sam knew he was crying, tears falling unheeded down his cheeks, but he also felt a sense of – wholeness, completeness he had never experienced before.

“Tell me when it’s okay to move,” Dean requested as he wiped away tears with his tongue.

“Give me a minute. “Sam let his body adjust to the pressure, to the pain that edged on piercing and then he opened his eyes and looked into Dean’s. “I’m ready.”

Dean started slowly, pulling most of the way out and gently easing back in. A few pushes in and the pain began to ebb, and then Dean found his prostate again and holy hells, Sam’s dick had gone limp, but now it was filling again so fast that the blood was rushing to Sam’s head and he reached down to stroke himself.

“No, let me.” Dean batted his hand away and then began stroking, as well as he could with Sam’s dick trapped between their bodies every time Dean leaned over to kiss him.

“Faster please, harder.” Sam held on to Dean’s arms as his body rocked with each thrust. 

“Anything you want sweetheart.” And Dean sat straight up, pulled Sam even more impossibly closer until Sam’s back barely touched the pillow and then he began pushing in faster, harder, pulling all the way out, punching back in. He was hitting Sam’s prostate just right, sending bright flares of intense pleasure soaring through Sam. Sam wrapped his legs around Dean, heels digging in. Sam’s cock was leaking, and he was crying again, but it wasn’t because of anypain. It was all so much, so close to too much, and not yet enough and Dean’s hand was on his cock again, firm and strong.

“Come for me,” Dean ordered softly. “Keep your eyes open Sammy, I want to see them when you come.”

Dean was pounding into him now with enough force that the headboard was bumping against the wall, the sound rhythmic and loud.

It didn’t take long, a few more strokes and then Sam was coming, long and hard and he was shaking with the effort of it, the pleasure of it.

Dean cursed and pounded into Sam erratically, chasing his own release before spilling deep inside him. For a hazy moment, Sam wished they could have done this bare, that he could feel Dean’s release inside of him but that thought was forgotten as a deep lethargy took over his body as Dean pulled out.

Dean pulled off the condom and threw it away and disappeared for a moment, returning with a warm washcloth. Sam was already drowsing when Dean quickly washed him off, tossed the washcloth carelessly to the side of the bed, and crawled into bed with Sam.

There was a pounding on the door. “Manager,” a voice said, he sounded not much older than Sam. “There’s been a noise complaint.”

Dean groaned beside him. “Fuck off!” he yelled at the door.

There was silence on the other end, another knock and then when no one came to the door a mumbled, “Keep it down sir.”

“See that?” Dean asked, pulling Sam into him. The bed was a double, too small for the both of them, but Sam didn’t care how tightly they had to squish together to fit in, he wouldn’t have moved for anything. “I rocked your world so thoroughly even the neighbors felt it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam retorted as Dean pulled the covers over both of them. “You were a real rock star, best I ever had.”

There was a swat on his hip. “Smart ass,” Dean said. “If you can still wisecrack, I didn’t fuck you hard enough. I guess I’ll have to try again tomorrow.”

Sam smiled. “I guess you will.”

He was almost asleep when Dean whispered. “Hey Sammy, what would you think about staying with me?”

“Here?” Sam asked, mind fuzzy with sleep.

“No, go on the road with me. On hunts and things. I could use a partner, someone to watch my back.” Dean’s hand was rubbing restlessly on Sam’s arm as he spoke. “You could be the geek boy and do all the research, I could do all the heavy lifting.”

Sam turned his head. He could barely make out Dean’s face in the darkness. “I’m not a hunter Dean.”

“You could be,” Dean insisted. “I could teach you. Get you fit, put some muscles on that scrawny body –”

“Hey!” Sam interjected.

“Into that scrawny, beautiful, tempting, body,” Dean amended. “We could make it work, I know we could, if you would give it a try.”

“Wouldn’t it put a cramp in your style?“ Sam asked. “A different lover every night with me in the room?”

“I’m getting too old for that shit.” Dean shifted in the bed, a hand now on Sam’s hip. “Wouldn’t want to anyway, not with you around.”

Sam’s heart was in his throat. “Don’t say things like that, not if you don’t mean them.”

“I could fall in love with you, that’s the truth. I’ve never said those words to another living soul. I could fall in love with you Sammy. I think I already am.”

Sam had Stanford, something he had dreamed about his whole life. He’d be an idiot to give it up to go with Dean. He didn’t even like hunting, wasn’t good at it. His dad would never forgive him if he made this choice.

“You don’t have to decide tonight,” Dean added. “Don’t have to decide until you are ready. I’ll take you home tomorrow, you take all the time you need.”

Dean’s voice lowered, lips ticking Sam’s ear. “But I’m going to fuck you nice and slow tomorrow, take my time and take you apart. Consider it an incentive.”

Sam pushed back into Dean, let himself melt into Dean’s embrace as sleep once again stole over him. Just as he was about to go under, he remembered he forgot to call his dad.

He could call him first thing in the morning – or second after – after -

The next thing he knew there was a pounding on the door, much sharper and more intense than before and someone was yelling Dean’s name.


	7. Chapter 7

From behind him, Dean groaned his disapproval “We aren’t even fucking.” He opened one eye, as Sam turned his head to look at him. “Not yet anyway.” He winked at Sam and then threw back the covers, crawling over Sam to get out of bed.

“Hey asshole, I have a gun!” Dean yelled as he headed toward his bag.

“Dean! Open this damn door.” 

It took Sam a few seconds to recognize the voice, but Dean was quicker. “Dad?” Dean asked almost tentatively. He grabbed his jeans from the floor and quickly stepped into him. “Coming. Just a sec.”

Dean opened the door just as Sam remembered he was naked and pulled the cover back over him. 

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked at the same time John thundered. “Why don’t you answer your damn phone?”

Dean blinked a few times. “It hasn’t been ringing.” He picked it up from the end table. “Oh, it’s still dead. I guess my charger is broken.”

John was staring at Sam and Sam felt a ridiculous compulsion to pull the covers to his neck like a Victorian virgin as he sat up.

John turned back to Dean. “Please tell me you and Sam didn’t –”

“With all due respect sir,” Dean replied, voice clipped and flat. “Sam and I are two consenting adults and what we do or don’t do is nobody’s business but ours.”

“Get some shoes on and get your ass out here. I need to tell you something, should have long ago but Bobby –” John looked in Sam’s direction again but not actually at Sam, like he wasn’t worth the trouble of making eye contact. “Bobby has been trying to reach you.”

“Giant snake got his phone,” Dean said in a way of an explanation as he shoved his feet into his boots. John just turned around and left, apparently expecting Dean to do as he was told. Dean looked over at Sam and shrugged. “Probably has something to do with whatever he’s been hunting. I’ll be right back.”

Sam pulled on his own jeans as soon as Dean shut the door. He looked out the motel window but didn’t see them. He knew deep down in his very being that this was about him somehow, about him and Dean and he couldn’t just stay there and wait to be spoon fed information. He picked up the motel key and walked outside.

It was nearing dawn, the sky just beginning to lighten. Sam could hear whispered voices toward the side of the motel and made his way silently there, his bare feet crossing over the cold concrete.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me before now.” Dean was angry, his words terse. “How in the hell could you keep something like this from me?”

“Watch your tone boy, I am still your father.” John’s voice, low and stern.

“And apparently now Sam’s too,” Dean replied, tersely. “Fuck, I can’t believe –”

Sam must have made a sound, an involuntary gasp of breath, because suddenly there was a pair of green eyes peering at him from the corner of the motel.

“Sam,” Dean’s tone was pleading. “I didn’t know anything about this. You have to believe me.”

“This? What?” Sam asked, he knew he was already border-lining on hysteria. “What did you mean when you said John was my father too?”

“Just what he said,” John replied. “Look, we didn’t mean to keep this from you guys so long –”

“No, no, no.” Sam could feel the world spinning off its axis. “Bobby is my father. Karen was my mother. You – you are just making this up because you are mad because Dean and I – Dean and –” Sam bent over, heaving, the contents of his stomach spilling onto the concrete.

Dean reached over as if to touch his back and Sam stumbled away. “Don’t touch me!” he ordered, backing up against the motel’s exterior wall. “You said you thought you were my brother.”

“I did – and then he – I’m fucking mad about this too Sam. I never thought he would deceive me like this. I would have never – I am so damn sorry Sammy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Sam’s voice was shaky, his stomach still queasy. He looked over at John. “Explain this to me, you owe me this much. Tell me why my dad – why Bobby – lied to me all these years.”

“The thing that killed your Mom,” John started, and Sam felt a physical stab in his chest as the image of his mother rearranged itself. “We had reason to believe it was after you too. I was numb with grief, already had Dean to consider, both of you needed to be safe. Bobby was a pro at this stuff, knew things I hadn’t dreamed of at the time. His house was warded, he knew how to protect you – so – I realize now how wrong it was. I wanted to tell you years ago, but Bobby wouldn’t let me. Told me you were his now.”

Sam began to stumble away, back toward the motel room. He had thought he wanted to know, but now he just couldn’t listen to John talk anymore. 

“Son wait –” John began.

“I’m not your son,” Sam responded, voice loud enough that the lights went on in the room beside him. “Apparently I’m not anyone’s son.”

“Sam, hold on a second.” Dean was walking toward him, hands up in the air to show he wasn’t going to touch Sam. “Where are you going?”

“Dean, we still have a lot to talk about.” John’s voice from behind Dean. “Maybe Sam can get dressed, calm down a little and we can –”

“Fuck off,” Sam bit out the words, hands shaking too hard to open the motel door with the key. Dean silently held out his hand and Sam deposited the key into it. Behind him John had stopped talking, fucking finally, but was still hovering.

Sam grabbed his backpack, began shoving things into it, eyes too bright with tears to really see what he was doing. He located his shoes, pulled them on without socks. Dean watched him. “Are you going back to Bobby’s?” Dean asked after Sam had pulled on his shirt, found h[2] is wallet and put it in his pants. “I can drive you.”

“I’m going to Stanford.” Sam hadn’t realized that was his plan until he said it out loud. “And I’m going on my own.”

“How?” It was at that moment that Sam realized Dean was crying too. It took him aback, Dean was always so confident, so well put together. He had never seen him this vulnerable and a huge part of him hated Dean for those tears. “You have no money. I know this has been - I can’t even begin to describe how fucked up this all is but – please let me take you.”

“I can’t,” Sam replied honestly. He had a little money, maybe could ride a bus part of the way. But mostly he planned to hitchhike. He had a room when he got there, had everything paid for and as for his books – maybe Bobby would send them to him. Right now, Sam just didn’t care about anything except getting away from this motel. He made the mistake of glancing at the bed, sheets disheveled, twin pillows still dented from their heads and his stomach heaved again. He dropped his backpack and ran to the bathroom, barely making it in time.

When he got out, Dean wasn’t in the room anymore. Sam left the room and saw John and Dean fighting in the parking lot. 

“All my life I have followed your orders blindly, like the good fucking soldier you raised me to be –” Dean was pushing on John, like he was trying to shove him away.

John shoved him back. “Look, I know you are upset but you need to stand the hell down.”

There was the sound of skin hitting skin, Sam didn’t look back to see which one got the punch.

A cop car pulled up just as Sam made it to the sidewalk. He put his head down and kept walking.

He walked maybe an hour, his mind a careful blank, the tears had finally dried up, but he wasn’t sure the nausea would ever go away. He was less than surprised when he heard a loud engine coming up from behind him.

He stopped walking and waited on Dean. Dean had the beginnings of a shiner and Sam couldn’t help but flinch in sympathy as he looked at it. “You should see the other guy,” Dean declared, a pale imitation of his cocky self.

“I don’t need your help,” Sam said. “I don’t think I can be around you after – after this morning.”

“I get you. It’s just, I can’t let you go by yourself. We don’t have to talk; we don’t have to do anything. I just want to get you to Stanford safely and then I’ll get the hell out of your life, I promise. Just please Sammy – Sam, please Sam, get in the car.”

Sam looked at the long road, logic warring over emotion, logic won. He opened the back door, shoved his backpack in, and then got into the front seat.

They drove in silence for most of the day. They stopped to get gas, use the bathroom, grab some fast food and they kept driving. It was nearly dark when Dean spoke. Sam startled; his mind had been drifting.

“We could still hunt together,” Dean said, voice unsure, not glancing Sam’s way. “I mean, not as we planned of course but – you could still be the geek boy and I could still teach you and – I don’t think I’ll be seeing John again, we left things kinda, well not on good terms. And I don’t want to do this alone, I’m no good at being untethered. So, we could, still, if you wanted to, neither of us would have to be alone.”

Sam felt his hand reaching for the car door, not knowing or caring that the car was going over 60 at the moment. “I can’t – I can’t do this.”

“Whoa, wait. Wait Sam,” Dean slowed the car down. “I’m sorry I said anything, I shouldn’t have put that on you, not after everything. Just wait, I won’t talk anymore I promise. Just stay in the car okay? Until we get to Stanford.”

Sam nodded, trying to breathe through the panic. He put his head on his knees and heard Dean softly curse as the car sped up again.

Neither one of them wanted to stay in a hotel, so Sam took over driving duties so Dean could get some rest. He had been napping since Dean had spoken, or pretending to, so he was able to reassure Dean he’d be okay to drive.

Just a day ago, one lousy fucking day ago, Sam would have been thrilled to be able to drive Dean’s car. But now he just gripped the steering wheel with determination and followed the map they had picked up at a service station several miles back. He didn’t look at Dean once, couldn’t, as he headed toward California.

They switched places at a gas station in the middle of nowhere. Sam stared at the fading stars as Dean pumped the gas, and then Sam took his place on the passenger side, immediately feigning sleep. 

They arrived mid-morning, Dean pulled into a spot that said No Parking in big black letters.

For a second Sam didn’t move, couldn’t move. It was a sunny California day, there were a few students milling around, not many as school didn’t open for a few days yet. He’d have to find a place to stay until the dorms opened. But first he was going to have to get out of the damn car.

He reached behind him, pulled his backpack up into the front seat, held it close.

He had left the polar bear in the motel, still on the second bed, the one he was supposed to have slept in.

His mind flashed to Dean’s triumphant smile as he handed it to Sam. Sam groped blindly for the handle to the door.

“Sam –” Dean began.

Sam pulled the door open and practically flung himself out of the car. 

“Hey, you can’t park there,” a boy not much older than Sam had his phone out, taking a picture of the car. “I’m going to report this, you aren’t supposed to park here.”

“Shut up,” Sam spat out. He gripped the backpack closer, looking at the sprawling campus. He had no idea where to go.

“Sam –”

Sam turned around to see Dean close to him, too close. Dean reached up and held Sam’s head in his hands and pulled Sam’s head closer. Sam was frozen in place. For one terrifying, exhilarating, confusing moment Sam thought Dean was going to kiss him, but Dean stood on his tiptoes and kissed Sam’s forehead instead, quick and gentle. “Take care Sammy.”

Sam watched, still frozen as Dean walked away, never paying the man any attention who was waving his phone at him. Dean never looked back at Sam, just got into the car, pulled out, barely missing hitting another car. A few seconds later he was gone.

“I’ve got his license plate,” the boy said, waving his phone.

Sam plucked it out his hand, tossed it on the sidewalk and smashed it.

The boy was still yelling as Sam walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> Um...sorry?? I think I've mentioned before my muse is evil. I do plan a sequel to this. Kudos and comments mean so much to me, if you have the time/inclination to leave them.
> 
> Summary of chapter 7 for those who need to skip it: John tells Sam and Dean they are brothers Sam takes it hard, gets physically ill Sam decides to go to Stanford and Dean, after a fight with John, insists on taking him They part ways at Stanford


End file.
